


Know your enemy.

by alcoholinspired



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22373431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcoholinspired/pseuds/alcoholinspired
Summary: Alexander Cousland stopped the blight and avenged his family. When duty sent him to Amaranthine a darkspawn invasion changed his plans, as did another Howe in his path. Will they ever live in the same space or will someone end up hurt?
Relationships: Cousland/Nathaniel Howe, Male Cousland/Nathaniel Howe, Nathaniel Howe/Warden
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	1. The dungeon.

**Author's Note:**

> I updated the initial chapters as of April 23, hope you enjoy it!

It was a fool's plan since the beginning, with no odds of succeeding, not if it meant escaping the Keep alive. It was suicide by another man's sword, no other man than the one who brought his house down, that much Nathaniel was certain. Except nothing had gone according to the plan.

"Throw him in the cell, we deal with him later, once the Warden Commander arrives." Yelled an angry Warden to his peers as they dragged him to the dungeons. He spat blood on the floor, lip injured from the fight with Nathaniel.

Two warriors dragged him by a painful armlock, one with swollen eye and another with a winged helmet, a mage walked slowly behind them ready to strike should they lose the hold on him.

When he reached the Keep it was a perfect opportunity to lay a trap; Warden Commander Cousland wasn't present, only soldiers and a handful of Orlesian Wardens, who never set foot there. It should be easy to do.

He snuck around like a criminal in his own home, knocking out the soldiers in his way. He could kill them, but he wouldn't, not if it could be avoidable, his quarrel was with Commander Cousland and no one else. But of course things weren't as easy as he thought, he almost laughed at how Ser Randolphe would call it 'a stupid, rushed, lousy plan' and proceed to tell everything wrong with it for the next hours. At least he would be proud Nathaniel held his ground fighting Grey Wardens, four of them no less, before being dragged to the cell he now stood.

Not that pride would help with the bruises and cuts in his body, but he found a little joy in having hit them enough to hurt just as much.

"Who are you?" Asked the same Warden, with a now very ugly busted lip.

"I will not talk to you."

The Warden ignored his answer and continued his interrogation.

"Who hired you to come here? Are you with the crows?"

Nathaniel didn't answer him, instead crossing his arms and raising his chin. If the fiery stare and a bloody spit on the floor was any indication, it gave the desired result.

"He doesn't look bloody Antivan." Spoke the mage warily touching their belly and flinching.

"Answer thief, you're wasting our time."

"I said I will not speak to you."

"He looks Ferelden." Spoke the warrior with the black-eye.

"Could look like a cursed Broodmother for all I care. I want to know how a thief learns to fight like that. You can make it so much easier if you just tell us your name and who contracted you." Continued the fat-lip one.

"We could at least make him useful." Said the one with the wing helmet, looking back to fat-lip. He looked from the warrior to Nathaniel with a glint in his eyes Nathaniel wasn't sure he liked.

"We'll have to wait for the Ferelden Commander for that. Come on, we can't greet him like that." He said putting an end to the conversation and leaving the room followed by the other Wardens.

Only a guard remained, who looked at the whole exchange baffled and now stared Nathaniel with a dumb face.

"Do you see something you like?" Asked Nathaniel with a taunting tone.

The guard only muttered something then sat on a bench to do his paperwork.

Oddly, it was having his family's armor taken again that hurted most. It was rightfully his, to have it stripped from him and see it passing from hand to hand punched him out of breath many times over.

Must have been hours later when screams beyond the walls called his and the guard's attention. Pained and desperate, asking for help, mercy or battle cries.

The guard raised his sword and left the dungeon, Nathaniel went to the end of his cell to try having a glance of what was happening, but the door was quickly and heavily shut.

He tried to find something to pick the lock, if there was a battle outside it would be the perfect time to run away, but he couldn't find anything.

It was when he heard guttural noises that he completely froze in his spot. Throaty harsh mutters from something not quite human, lots of them. Was this a darkspawn invasion? He saw no darkspawn when he invaded just hours ago, how could they have appeared all of a sudden?

He heard shrieks, raspy and followed by others. Sound of explosions not far away and collapsing structures reached him, he could even feel the floor shake under his feet. If fear didn't dawn on him before, it certainly did now. He fully expected to die by Commander Cousland's hands, maybe by the gallows, but not by being crushed by a collapsing building.

The screams slowly faded over the hours, the explosions occasionally repeated, thankfully farther and farther away from the dungeons. There was the slightest hint of smoke. Maybe he should've stayed in the Free Marches.

Either by the Maker's pity or a wicked sense of humor, no darkspawn invaded the prison, but he knew they were there, he could hear their unintelligible grumbles and raspy, cavernous voices. The thought they talked with each other was unsettling enough.

Maybe it was the smoke slowly messing his head, maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he heard battle noises and screams again, this time they shouted for the Warden Commander. His weariness quickly smothering the sounds outside.

Two days later, if his sense of time wasn't screwed, the same guard reappeared, bruised, with bags around his eyes and a worn out look. Nathaniel was nearly happy to see that unremarkable man again, at least he was a sign the darkspawn weren't there anymore. That was a new low for him.

"You're still alive, you son of a bitch?"

"I am. And very happy to see you." 

"I should let you rot in this cell, nobody would know, nobody would care." The guard's voice was loud and his gestures wide and abrupt.

"Is that the worst your sharp mind can come up with? Pity." Nathaniel said with a sigh as he rolled his eyes, then fiddling with his worn out sleeve.

"You... you, keep that smug smile for now. Hope the Commander hangs you."

Nathaniel looked back to him with an arched brow and narrowed eyes.

"So, the fabled Warden Commander came to save your sorry hides?"

As the guard scowled at him, Nathaniel didn't hold back a wry smile.

"Why haven't the darkspawn eaten you? Good people died while you're here, safe and sound." The guard spoke as he walked closer to the cell, stopping just a few inches away.

Nathaniel inclined his head, a little glint in his eyes as the man lost his composure. Realization quickly hit the guard who huffed and stepped back.

"Why am I talking to you?" The guard said exasperated, throwing his hands in the air and walking away.

"Because you don't have anything better to do with your life? Just a guess."

He ignored him, turned back and sat on a bench, unsheathing his sword and cleaning it.

On the table near the guard there was a jug from which he poured wine for himself. The sight of the red liquid was enough to stir the sensation of thirst and hunger Nathaniel was trying hard to ignore.

"Won't I have a last meal before the Warden Commander seals my fate?"

"What? Do you want a royal banquet and a bed too? You're a thief, scum, should get your hands cut off for all I care. If I'm lucky, hunger will get to you before the Commander."

"So that's how it's going to be? Fine."

"I would exchange you for any of the people out there, thief."

He drank from the mug in one gulp, returning to the sword. Both fell silent, the only sound coming from the guard and the buzzing outside.

Nathaniel wasn't sure how or when he fell asleep, maybe he passed out. He knew his fate was just a matter of hours distant, but in the face of hunger and thirst he didn't care for whatever punishment the Commander Cousland could concoct, he never expected to come out alive after all.


	2. A face from the past.

"Wake up, thief."

Nathaniel woke up with a most irritating sound. He opened his eyes and from what his blurred vision could see, the guard was angrily hitting the cell bars with an iron bar.

When he saw him raising he stopped and sat on the bench.

Nathaniel felt an incoming headache, that didn't feel any better with the smell of the guard's meal. It was simple, but at this point it would be as good as a Starkhaven's banquet.

The guard didn't bother talking to him, neither he was in a mood for it, not even to bother the man.

Time passed terribly slow, he looked down to the floor counting the cracks, fiddled with his fingers, stared at the ceiling, then did it all over again.

Much later, Nathaniel heard the heavy wooden door creaking open then hurried, light, footsteps.

"Ah, Commander! Good thing you're here."

"I was told about a captured thief."

"There. This one's been locked up three nights, now. Good men died while this one was protected in his cell." Spoke the guard spiteful. Nathaniel gave him a dirty look that made the man even more pissed, then turned his attention to the Warden Commander, or who he once knew as Fergus little brother, Alexander.

But he wasn't a child anymore.

"Why not just execute him?"

The annoying guard talked again, and again Nathaniel shifted his attention to him only to prod him further.

"The seneschal said it was your call, Commander. Technically all the man is guilty of is theft. But who knows what else he might have come here to do?"

"Who is he?"

There wasn't a single trace of recognition in his face, Nathaniel was a complete stranger to him. He guessed he couldn't expect that from him.

"He won't give his name. All I know is he was caught poking around the estate in the middle of the night. I'd say he was just a thief, but it took four Grey Wardens to capture him."

At that the Commander slightly raised his eyebrows, though his face quickly returned to an indifferent expression.

"You best be careful. Whoever he is, he's no ordinary burglar, that's for sure."

"Leave me to talk with him."

"As you wish, Commander. I'll tell the seneschal you came. He'll want to know what you decide to do with this man."

The guard left. When they were alone the accumulated anger flared in him all over again, enough to ignore the ache from the lack of nourishment.

"If it isn't the great hero, conqueror of the Blight, vanquisher of all evil. Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall? With lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?"

The Commander arched a single eyebrow at him, holding a hint of a smirk.

"I see my reputation preceds me."

"It does. I know you best as the man who murdered my father."

Alexander knitted his eyebrows and tilted his head, looking at him as if they never were in the same room together. Maybe it was something he was used to hear, maybe he simply didn't care enough.

"You can't even remember me, can you? I'm Nathaniel Howe. My family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father? Do you remember any of us?"

At that, Alexander changed. His body tensed, fingers moving as if holding a sword, hands eventually clenching his fist. The indifferent facade fell and his lips turned into a thin line, the pale skin became red making the light green eyes much more evident.

Nathaniel felt the blood pumping in his veins, he inhaled deeply and crossed his arms. Death would come soon, either by hanging or by the end of the blade of his father murder.

"Your father killed my family! In our own home! He deserved everything he got!" His voice taut as he spoke each word, growing louder at each word.

"Your family was going to sell us out to the Orleasians!"

Alexander halted at that, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching.

"Highever fought at Ostagar, my family answered the King's call and joined to fight the darkspawn. I suppose your father didn't tell you that?"

"How could he? A grey warden stole into his estate and slaughtered him before I could even talk to him."

"Stole? Are you out of your mind?!"

"What else was raiding his estate for?"

Commander Cousland stared at him with a bewildered look, his mouth slightly open as if to say something that never came out. The color in the Commander's face faded, making him look much like a ghost.

"So you came here to settle the score."

"I came here... I thought I was going to try to kill you. To lay a trap for you. But then I realized I just wanted to reclaim some of my family's things. It's all I have left."

The Commander's tense face gave away the slightest twitch, he couldn't guess what the man thought, but it was unsettling at the very least.

"Just how much do you know about your father, about the war?" He spoke slowly, plain, but there was anger laced in each of his words. Commander Cousland didn't make an accusation of guilt, but it weighted on Nathaniel as if he did.

"If you're asking whether I knew what he was up to, the answer is no. I was squired in the Free Marches. Look, I don't know what happened with the Couslands. It sounds like it was horrible. The entire war was. Whatever my father did, however, shouldn't harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now, those of us left. It's all thanks to you. And now you get to decide my fate. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Your family only has itself to blame for its troubles. Not me, not the Wardens." The Warden Commander was quick to point it out.

"The Howes served Ferelden for twelve generations. My ancestors served under King Calenhad! The darkspawn are a menace. If it weren't for the Blight, maybe my father would never have... done what he did. But I can't do anything about them, can I? It's all lost. There's just you and the Grey Wardens, here in my home. So go ahead and do what you're going to do."

The Commander only looked at him with the most empty look he ever saw in a person, could very well be a dead one. He didn't bother giving him an answer, or saying anything else, Nathaniel almost expected him to, but the man might have made up his mind at that point, if not even before. He breathed deeply, ready to die, just one more to die by the Warden Commander's hands, but the uncomfortable silence made him cold in his bones. He never dealt well with it.

Soon came the guard followed by an old man in a silver armor.

"I brought the seneschal for you, Commander."

"I see you've spoken to our guest. Quite the handful, isn't he? Have you decided what's to be done with him?" Spoke the man somewhat amused.

Commander Cousland just turned his attention from Nathaniel to him.

"Did you know this was Nathaniel Howe?" There was no hint of any of the emotions he previously displayed.

"A Howe? It figures they would turn up again. The Howes are implacable enemies, Commander." There was surprise in his tone, but in his eyes was how much disgusted he really was.

"Release him. I want him gone."

There was silence for a moment. Nathaniel barely processed what the Commander said. By the wide eyed look from the Seneschal, neither did he.

"I'll just come back, you know." He threatened, but got no reaction out of the man.

"I would advise against that. Put him on the road. Make sure he keeps walking." The Seneschal quickly regained his composure and spoke to the guard.

"Come on, you. Be thankful the Commander is so merciful." The annoying guard came to open his cell.

Nathaniel glared at the Commander, maybe expecting him to stab him in the back or a reaction, but the man wasn't fazed in the slightest. His face as unreadable as a mask.

He walked the way out of the Keep, the sunlight bothered his eyes but he held his head high and ignored the stares and low voices, he knew the way out, better than any of them.

The guard followed him close behind, no doubt ready to strike should he make the wrong movement.

Soon they hit the road then the guard finally spoke:

"Keep walking you, lucky bastard. Should be thankful the Commander didn't put your head on a pike."

Nathaniel looked back to the guard and with an arched eyebrow asked the guard:

"Aren't you going to miss me?"

"You're a funny sort, aren't you? Hope the darkspawn take you. Now keep walking."

Nathaniel looked at the road ahead and inhaled deeply, walking until he knew the Keep wasn't in view. He then stopped in the middle of the road and looked back.

There he was, with less than what he began and even more lost.


	3. The village.

Warden Commander Cousland spared him against all odds and good reasoning. That was an outcome he could never have foreseen and something Nathaniel himself probably wouldn't do were things the other way around.

It was past noon, which was good since he still had some hours of sunlight to find a place to rest. He couldn't remain still as it would be an invitation to every darkspawn and bandit that preyed on the chaotic lands.

There was a small village nearby, he passed there briefly before invading the Keep, if he were quick enough, he would be able to reach it before sunset. With any luck he could find new clothes and something to eat.

It didn't dawn on him why he was spared. He gave the man every reason he could think to be killed, his very existence being one, yet the man sent him away. Part of him didn't want to survive that encounter, not after continuously losing so much.

His thoughts were scattered, he was entirely focused on the Warden, then his family's possessions, then the Warden again. Now that he didn't have any of those and was starving, his mind traveled back to his memories of his life there. Something he gladly never did for years.

He was now in a low predicament, he was like a peasant now. No friends, no family, no money, nowhere to go and nothing to do with himself. He dreaded to think what his father would say if he could, that if he even looked at him. He wasn't sure, father never made the effort to contact him, not even a note in all those years, only Delilah's few letters made him feel he still had a family past the name. But he dismissed the thought.

The walk was especially terrible, his lack of nourishment and the worn out boots did him no favours, he could practically feel the pebbles on the way; his clothes, after three nights in a cell, were definitely uncomfortable and he would gladly get rid of them. To top it off, his headache returned stronger than before and it was hard to focus.

Maybe he should've stayed as Ser Randolphe's squire, the man was harsh, it was boring, but at least he had had food and somewhere to sleep, he could make a living for himself, away from all this mess.

Nathaniel chuckled at that, at least if the Warden Commander had executed him, he would have died by the hands of Ferelden's beloved Prince, not by stinky monsters or bandits. It would be the last insult to die by such means.

He kept walking. As the sun was setting in the horizon Nathaniel could see the village in the distance. A wave of relief washed over him.

But his relief was short lived. When he came close enough to see the village's gates his blood ran cold.

The gates were wide open, wood broken and splintered in many places, charred in others. The air carried a stench much like the one he felt in the Keep when the darkspawn invaded.

He cursed internally, he was unarmed and weak, while he would take his chances with a bandit, if the darkspawn were still there he would at the very least get tainted.

Was this the reason Commander Cousland sent him away? To die unmentioned by a darkspawn? Curse that man, he wouldn't die like that.

Nathaniel found cover behind a tree and warily looked there, eyes wide open and attentive to every shadow corner, focused on hearing his surroundings.

But no noise came from there, no movement, nothing, the village was dead silent. Nothing but the buzzing of insects, the rustle of the vegetation or himself to disturb the silence. He wasn't wholly sure it was safe, but he slowly approached the village's gates.

Peeking inside the village he saw a variety of items that littered the floor; broken carts, crates, random materials and rotting food. The place looked abandoned.

He entered with careful steps, trying to make as little noise as possible. The few stone buildings had blood stains on their walls, their windows and doors open, some of them busted. A well on the center of the village looked most intact as did a full cart near the entrance, most likely left behind.

The stone floor too was stained; puddles, smears and marks of dragging, from blood as well as something very dark he was only sure wasn't human.

The place most likely was raided, quite possibly by the darkspawn in the short span he has last seen it. He wasn't sure whether it was just his luck he was in the Keep at that time.

Nathaniel sighed, the sun had set and he couldn't decide if he was more tired or hungry, the thought of scavenging for food like a rat made his stomach twist into a knot. At the very least he wouldn't be bothered for some time.

Never in his life he thought he would be kicked out in his own home, twice; this time by a common soldier no less. It was humiliating, he despised the man, but the Howes lost the war, it was a reason he could grasp to be exiled, unlike his father who just wanted him out to make room for Thomas to take over the Arling.

At least when father sent him away he didn't have to walk his way to the Free Marches or scavenge leftovers.

He entered one of the buildings, a three level large one in the middle, all he wanted was to eat and sleep. The inside was messy, a turned table, some broken furniture and pottery; it smelt of blood and rotting food, whoever lived there left in a hurry.

Heading for the kitchen to search for food, he found a pot on the fireplace, still with some pottage, a closed cabinet, a cupboard from which a few bottles and pottery had fallen off.

Nathaniel took a chair and placed it in the kitchen near the pot, took a bottle of wine, a bowl and a spoon and served himself some of the pottery. It was bland and far from what he got used at Starkhaven, just like Ferelden.

Thoughts wandered back to that brief encounter with his father's murder, a man who he once knew as the little blond boy that he had to look down to, always hanging around Fergus with a mischievous stare and way too good at social graces. Nathaniel would never have guessed Alexander would become what he did, who would? And although he knew for sure Alexander killed his father, it was hard linking the boy from Highever gardens to the man that he saw.

Once he finished his dinner he headed upstairs, tiredness rapidly catching up on him. His steps weren't as steady as they were and eyelids felt heavy.

Choosing a room that had a view to the village he prepared to sleep. There was a single bed and a nightstand with a candle out, the sheets were a bit dirty and the room didn't smell much better than the rest of the house or village, but it was better than sleeping outside with the cold and the darkspawn running amok.

He shook out the sheet and beat the mattress as clean as he could, sat down, took off his boots and shirt and laid down.

Nathaniel never paid much attention to Alexander other than when he was with Fergus, he was just a boy back then. But he did remember the wide, clear green eyes and the smile that followed, hiding behind his big brother because he did something he absolutely shouldn't and Fergus would later tell him what it was.

But that man had no trace of the smile and the happiness of the boy. If anything, that man looked like a haunting.

At least he was still taller.


	4. Changing paths.

Nathaniel stirred in bed, consciousness slowly creeping back uninvited. At this half asleep state he could almost pretend his life wasn't uprooted, if he had enough alcohol he could even believe it.

The light coming from the window's cracks and bothering him indicated it was morning already, though he couldn't guess the hour and he honestly didn't care. He just wanted to sleep for the rest of the day, but his body wasn't complying and he couldn't find a position to get back to sleep without something hurting. He huffed in frustration and tossed the sheet away then sat on the bed. His vision was blurry and it took some seconds for it to set, as did the hunger.

Nathaniel leaned his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands, partially to rub the sleep out of his eyes, partially because he didn't have the slightest clue of what to do. He dressed up and went downstairs, for now he needed food.

After a quick meal he left the house. The summer sun was still high, but it was past noon; he couldn't say he was surprised to sleep so much, he was exhausted and still felt tired, but he went to scavenge the other houses.

Nathaniel moved slower, felt weaker and maybe that was the reason his head was airy, but he couldn't shake off thoughts of the Warden Commander.

His father had many opinions of the Couslands, some of them quite contradicted the others, but he seldom spoke about Alexander, he was little more than a child when Nathaniel left, there wasn't much to talk about.

Though nothing what his father may have said about the younger Cousland and nothing he heard about the Warden Commander prepared him to see the man in person. The anger, the confusion, something he couldn't quite put a name on and how he switched back to indifference all did nothing but left him baffled.

He always said the Couslands were two faced liars who were trying to sell Ferelden out. Would Commander Cousland pretend something to the son of a man he killed? It sounded unreasonable, but he kept thinking it over, analyzing every little expression the young man displayed, but nothing gave him a clue.

Father also hated Grey Wardens, as much as he hated Orlesians. Hated more than the Couslands, more than his mother, more than him. Yet, his grandfather left everything behind to join them, yet it was a Grey Warden that saved Ferelden. It was a Grey Warden that spared him, a Cousland Grey Warden no less.

Were they so horrible people? Could all of Ferelden be wrong? Was his grandfather wrong? And if he was, what was the truth? Was this village a sample of what darkspawn left behind where they passed?

He was starting to have a headache.

There was a bitter irony that a Cousland Grey Warden saved Ferelden and took over his home. He chuckled thinking how horrid his father outburst would be.

He found cleaner clothes and cleaned himself. The day passed with nothing worth mentioning.

The second day he woke up much sooner, feeling a little better, so he started considering his options.

He could go to Amaranthine and make some money, the Warden Commander surely would have to go there sooner or later, he could catch him there.

Or he could leave it all and go back to the Free Marches, at least there he could walk without the big chance of being lynched by an angry mob.

Who was he fooling? He would never be able to live with himself if he couldn't get an answer out of Alexander, even if his answer was death. It was stupid, Nathaniel knew it, but as Ser Randolphe said, he often did stupid things.

He began to sort out what he could take with him when he heard a noise coming from outside. Nathaniel carefully approached the window, taking advantage of the cracks to peek outside.

The sounds of footsteps became near, different ones. Before someone crossed his view, he heard a boisterous voice:

"Don't you ever take those damn robes out?"

Then another one answered:

"Do you ever bath?"

"I'm a warrior, not a delicate flower, Mage."

Soon, they appeared in his line of sight. A red haired dwarf with a war axe, a tall blond man with mage robes and no other than the Warden Commander himself.

"It's part of your arsenal? Kill enemies with your warrior's fragrance?" Asked the man in robes.

"Ha! Think your skirt will protect you against my axe?"

"If your axe comes anywhere near me, I'll burn you two."

While the two talked Alexander kept walking, Nathaniel couldn't see much of his face, but he didn't seem interested in their antics. They were probably heading to the city, it would be so easy to lay a trap, or arrange a bow and kill him from afar. Maybe he would've done that before, right when he arrived, now though, he wasn't as sure, not without facing him first.

"You think a little fire would stop me? I would have your head before you even waved those pointy fingers."

"So you look at my fingers?"

"Would you like that, you skirt wearing freak?"

They kept walking unaware of his presence and unfazed by the destruction. Soon they left his view, voices getting further until he couldn't hear anymore. Nathaniel waited a bit more before he moved, carefully leaving his spot and looking around the village to make sure he was alone.

They quite possibly would walk this road again when they returned, he inhaled deeply and made up his mind, he would face Alexander head on, it was what he came for.

All he had to do was wait.


	5. The Howe road.

It was the morning of the fourth day since he saw the Wardens. Should they return soon, they would cross the village again that night or the following one.

He started packing some food and other items in a bag he found, readying himself to leave the village, he was sure it would be a bad idea to extend his stay. If Alexander didn't appear in the following days, he would head to the city and wait for him there.

Nathaniel was nearly questioning his sanity for wanting to face Alexander, so soon nonetheless. The man let him loose once, didn't mean he would do it again.

At the same time, he was the whole reason he returned to Ferelden, he wouldn't have other than for Delilah. And his father.

Delilah. What fate befell upon his siblings? Had they died in the war? Had Alexander killed them? It would only make sense if he had killed him too. Or so he hoped.

What if they ran away or where in hiding? No. That wouldn't be in character for Thomas, that drunk, skirt chaser had too much of a foolhardy confidence to run away; he either died in the war or shanked behind a tavern. Could he be by their father' side when the Warden Commander raided their estate? He was their father's favorite after all.

But if he were to be honest, it was Delilah that made him shiver.

Her letters stopped coming many months prior to the war, he expected them for some time before giving up. Maybe she got tired of writing them for so many years and moved on with her life. Either way, he needed to know how she was.

She had no combat training, their father always regarded it as a ridiculous idea and instead was setting her up to marry one of the Couslands. It often ended in arguments.

Nathaniel looked down and smiled. What would've happened had his father been successful in marrying her off? Would his family still be destroyed by now? Would they be heroes as the Couslands were?

But that never happened. The Howes were pariahs and he was alone in an abandoned village about to ask the very same man who caused his house downfall to give him a chance to join the order who took over his home. His father would seethe in anger if he could see him now and if he knew what Nathaniel was about to do, he wouldn't discard he may even beat some sense into him. What his grandfather would say or do, he could only wonder.

He finished filling the bag and left it on a table, then walked around the village. The sun was high and the weather hot, but at least it had a light breeze.

The hours passed slowly, almost as if on purpose so he wandered around. The village's close surroundings were as empty as the village itself, no animals, not even highwaymen in sight. Other than he, insects and birds, it was a ghost place.

Reason told he wouldn't be spared a second time, or at the very least would be ditched with some very nice words. If Alexander decided to kill him, he didn't care, it would only fulfill his initial goal, only that would be at the hands of his father`s murder. He almost laughed at the thought, that would be something father wouldn't ever have predicted.

The wait was all that longer with the lack of things to do. After what must have been hours of wandering aimlessly, Nathaniel returned to the house he was occupying and went upstairs to rest for a while. He left the window half open and closed his eyes, but didn't sleep.

The night arrived but no sign of them. Had something happened? Had they headed elsewhere? Where could they go if not the city? If the Amaranthine nobles were still like he remembered, Alexander couldn't be away from the Keep for too long.

Much later, when his eyelids were heavy and he had almost given up on waiting, he heard someone talking.

"What were you doing in that shack?" Spoke a man in a sing-song voice, sounding like the mage Warden.

He peeked through the window, it was indeed him, as was the dwarf who retorted:

"Not your business, mage." 

The Warden Commander was with them, walking ahead in silence, followed closely by the mage, who used his staff to help the walk; the dwarf walked a few steps behind. They were approaching the well in the middle of the village.

Nathaniel turned around and rushed downstairs, hearing only his own heartbeat, trying not to trip in the darkness. He opened the door and crossed the threshold, whatever conversation the mage and the dwarf were having, it had come to an abrupt end as both assumed a fighting stance, the mage with fire burning around his hand and the dwarf quickly drawing his axe.

But he ignored them, attention firmly on the Warden Commander. He had his right foot ahead and knees slightly bent; hand an inch over his belt, a frown on his face as he saw who it was.

Nathaniel slowly raised his arms to signal he wasn't armed, walking to Alexander with confidence as if he didn't have an ounce of fear or second guessed throwing himself at his enemy's hands.

"Wait. I want to talk to you."

He looked briefly from Alexander to the mage, who still had fire in his hand. The Warden Commander remained silent, staring him head to toe and his surroundings. Without changing his posture he finally spoke:

"We have nothing to talk about."

"Maybe you don't, but I do. Just hear me, at least. Please."

Alexander tilted his head slightly to the side, lips slightly raised and eyes narrowed. After some seconds he relaxed his stance, then gestured for the other wardens.

"Don't look now, but I think the bird's come flying back." Said the mage with the same sing-song tone, fake whispering to Alexander, the fire in his hand disappearing in a blink.

The dwarf followed with a grating laugh and added:

"Careful. This one might go all Zevran on you."

Nathaniel ignored their comments, whatever gibberish they're going on about didn't matter to him. He kept his attention on the young Cousland, who didn't take his eyes off him.

"What else do you want?" There was spite in his voice, as well as a tad of annoyance.

Nathaniel took a breath before speaking, it wasn't like he was expecting a warm welcome.

"You set me free. Just let me go, despite what I said or what I might do. I want to know why."

There was a moment of silence between them, the only sound being from the Mage, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and the dwarf tapping his fingers. Alexander remained still, the frown on his face relaxed just a bit as his gaze became cold.

"I'm not looking for a fight with you, Howe. Leave." He finally spoke, and although he had no emotion in his tone, he made sure to stress the surname.

It was Nathaniel's turn to be bewildered, just as he was when Alexander released him. He searched his face for whatever hint of reason not to kill him he could have, but other than the small fluster and the controlled breath, he could read nothing other than what he would classify as anger. Not pity, not regret, nothing he could grasp.

"Even though I was looking for a fight with you." Said Nathaniel more relaxed, at least he was hearing him.

"Was that all you wanted?"

"You didn't answer me."

"I don't have to."

Nathaniel swallowed hard, the muscles of his jaw tensing. It was true, Alexander didn't own him any explanation, he came out of the war victorious and reaped the spoils, but it still didn't stop Nathaniel from having a bitter taste in his mouth that he couldn't answer such a simple question.

"I see."

Alexander didn't say anything, instead he just started walking again. Before he could go more than a few steps, Nathaniel made his request:

"Take me with you. Make me a Grey Warden."

He halted his movements upon hearing it, that seemed to get something out of the Warden Commander, finally. The light flush on his face became a full red and the otherwise dead green eyes shone as if he were on fire.

His lips parted slightly but it took a couple of seconds before his voice came out louder than before:

"You're wasting my time and my patience! Get lost."

"I have nowhere to go. I fully expected to die in here, maybe I even wanted to. But you let me go. Make me a Grey Warden. Let me try. Please." He would beg if he needed to.

"That's none of my concern. If you want to die so much there's a great amount of people in Denerim that would help you with it. Get out of my face."

"Then why didn't you? Why did you let me go?"

Alexander turned his body fully to him and with a voice full of scorn he retorted:

"You think joining will redeem your name, do you?"

"I don't know. Maybe that's not even important. Maybe it's important that I do my part to face the darkspawn. Maybe that's what my father should have done."

It wasn't lost on him, the twitch in the face and the shine in those green eyes when he mentioned his father.

"What brought this epiphany to you?"

"I was in the dungeon, in that cell you saw when the Darkspawn attacked, I heard the screams as they killed their way into the Keep. I want to do something to face them, I have to."

"Why should I ever trust you?"

"You probably shouldn't. I just... I have to try. I have to do something."

"Then go do something somewhere else. You're not needed."

"You lost a lot of Grey Wardens, maybe all of them. I'm needed more than you think." Stated Nathaniel giving a step ahead.

"Do you read minds now?"

"I don't have to. There's a Darkspawn invasion happening, you'll need all the manpower you can have. Hate me all you want, but you won't find someone as able as me so easily. I am needed."

Alexander didn't answer him promptly. He remained silent for a minute, staring at Nathaniel, slowly worrying his bottom lip. The fluster on his face fading with each second as did the traces of anger from before, by the time he breathed deeply and spoke again, his voice as well as his face were distant and devoid of any emotion:

"Very well. We'll see how you do with the Joining." A quick arch of his eyebrow was the only display he gave before he resumed his walk.

"In your future, I see a knife in the back. Just saying." Spoke the mage with a wry smile, following him closer than before.

"So we just let anyone into this outfit, huh?" Added the dwarf, frowning and ending with a huff.

"Nothing to fear." Said Nathaniel, though none of them seemed to care. He felt like a tight rope was taken away from his neck and he could breathe a sigh of relief. He knew he probably should keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't hold back a smile the Warden Commander gave him a chance. Alexander most certainly wouldn't believe him and not even Nathaniel would that it wasn't a revenge plan.


	6. The joining.

They left the village in a silent march. Alexander walked ahead, the mage close behind him while Nathaniel followed them a few feet apart with the dwarf behind. Every step was a pain, every muscle in his body tense and aching. He likely underestimated his tiredness and how walking among enemies would wear him down. But he kept on, if nothing else, out of curiosity to see through the end of it.

He couldn't believe what he did, and couldn't believe Alexander accepted him, judging by his follower's reaction, neither could them. Had he lost his mind? Would Alexander try to kill him? Should he? Should he have gone to Kirkwall?

The mage frequently looked back, lips tight and eyeing him suspiciously. Could mages set people on fire just by thought? He hoped not, but after a year in Kirkwall, he would rather not risk it.

The dwarf wasn’t any better. He stank and occasionally muttered something he couldn’t understand, undoubtedly ready to strike him down if he moved the wrong way. For the moment, Nathaniel was glad everytime the wind didn't bring the dwarf's smell to him.

When the first rays of sunshine appeared, he sighted Vigils Keep, yet it brought little comfort. The approach was destroyed, the wheat and crops ruined, black stained like the soil and stepped over; the stone walls crumbled at some points, barely held in others. The place reeked and he wrinkled his nose trying to block as much of the smell as possible without sudden movements, though none of the wardens appeared fazed by it.

A couple of soldiers guarded the gates, they saluted Alexander when he approached:

"Warden Commander."

Nathaniel halted. He remembered crossing those gates with his father and the guards saluting him, it was wrong to listen to "Warden Commander", that was his home. He grew up behind those walls, he knew that keep, its people, he remembered life there.

But the dwarf broke his thoughts, pushing him to keep walking:

"Move along. We don't have time for this."

Nathaniel just sighed and moved on. 

In the outer ward, debris was being removed while a dwarf meticoulusly analyzed the damaged walls, burnt stains being cleaned while some people walked back and forth carrying crates, herbs and various other items, everyone too busy to bother with them. They kept on straight to the inner ward, quietly until a man near the Andraste's statue shouted to his peers, pointing at Nathaniel:

"Hey, look over there, it's Arl Howe's son."

"What? Are you drunk? That bastard is dead, thank the Maker." Replied another.

"No, not the Arl, brick head, the son. He was here when the Darkspawn attacked." He vehemently affirmed.

Others stopped to see what it was about. Of course, he forgot to consider how he would be welcomed. Sure it would be something to remember.

"He's going to kill us!" Exclaimed an elven maid, her whole body trembling.

"The butcher's son!" Pointed a soldier near a merchant stall.

"I remember that man! The Wardens dragged him to the dungeons that day."

"It's all his fault! He brought the Darkspawn!" Shouted a man with a screechy voice.

"Haven't the Howes ruined us enough already?" Interjected someone behind him.

Then screaming broke out from every direction, so many voices they became indistinguishable. There was the angry mob he had so far avoided, making threatening and obscene gestures.

The mage looked around, jaw clenched, one hand gripping his staff tightly, the other fiddling with an ornament of his robe, though Alexander kept on walking, not once looking around or changing his pace.

Each step he gave people got louder, apparently everyone working stopped doing their duties and everyone not there appeared to join the screaming or just to watch it, the otherwise quick walk to the inner ward was giving him a headache. Nathaniel did his best to ignore it and kept looking ahead, just wanting to leave as soon as possible.

When they crossed the gate to the inner ward, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was surprised no one threw anything at him, but they probably just lacked the time for that. Once in the main hall, Alexander turned to them and spoke for the first time since they left the village:

"Wait for me here."

He left Nathaniel with the wardens, the mage looking everywhere but at him while the dwarf hit his foot on the floor, apparently trying to shake something out of his boot. Alexander headed to the end of the hall, stopping to speak with the seneschal.

The hall looked little like what it did before. From the decorations his mother took so much pride, just the carpet remained, now stained and frayed at the edges. The sturdy shelves still there were either broken or in disarray, books and scrolls arranged in piles on the floor; the armors his father left for display were nowhere to be seen, the stands which remained holding much simpler ones. The throne and the large hearth in the middle of the room were the only things that apparently remained the same.

Few servants scrubbed the floor cleaning the stains while some people repaired the walls, the faint smell of blood and Darkspawn still present. Never he pictured his home invaded by monsters, or taken over by a Cousland.

Then the seneschal gave a step ahead and with a strong voice ordered:

"Clear the hall. The Commander has business to attend to."

In minutes everyone left, including the seneschal. Alexander returned, stopping by the hearth.

"Oghren, Anders, you two are dismissed. The main hall will be closed for the hour." His tone was commanding, yet serene when talking to them, noticeably different when talking to him.

They left, the mage looking at Nathaniel with a raised eyebrow and a half smile, the dwarf looking at Alexander. He was alone with his enemy, again. The fire crackling in the hearth the only thing breaking the uncomfortable silence. Should Alexander want to kill him right now, that would be the perfect opportunity, he was tired, unarmed and no one would care. He could do no better than expect him to honor his word.

Alexander rested his hands on his belt, watching him with a neutral expression, though he couldn’t quite be sure whether he was looking at him, or through him. Nathaniel wanted to say something, just to provoke him, but he didn't know what. So he asked what was bothering him the most:

"What is going to happen?"

"We'll prepare your joining." He answered matter-of-factly.

"What, now?!" He stared at Alexander wide eyed, breath caught in his throat.

"Yes. Now. Do you have any objections?" He asked, eyebrows raising ever so slightly.

"No... no." He wanted it, asked for it, but that wasn’t how he pictured, nor when. The lack of preparation made his skin crawl and his heartbeat spike.

Nathaniel averted his gaze after realizing he was staring too long. Looking at Alexander was like looking at a ghost, cold and sent a shiver down his spine. Nathaniel wasn't sure of testing his limits, but it was preferable when his skin was flushed and eyes shining in anger than that empty look. At least the young Cousland kept his word, or maybe he just wanted to be rid of him as soon as possible, he honestly couldn't tell what went on in his head.

He watched the flames, trying to calm himself down, but it proved to be hard knowing the Commander’s gaze was on him. He looked back to Alexander and spoke again:

"I want to ask you something."

He just arched an eyebrow at him, with his silence, Nathaniel continued:

"Do you know what happened to Delilah and Thomas?"

Alexander remained silent long enough he thought he wouldn't bother answering, but alas, he did:

"You meant if I killed them."

He wasn't expecting him to say it, though Alexander wasn't all wrong. The fact he spoke so with the same matter-of-fact tone made him uneasy. But now that he asked he had to continue:

"Have you?"

"I'm not your father."

Nathaniel clenched his jaw biting back a snappy retort.

"Definitely. In this case, do you know what happened to them?"

"No."

Nathaniel stared at him trying to gauge if it was a lie, but he didn't give away the slightest twitch nor changed his stance. Either father was right and the Couslands were all born liars or Alexander was telling the truth, he couldn't be sure and quite honestly, the wait for the joining was getting the best out of him.

After some time the Seneschal returned with a large chalice in his hands and stood near the Commander.

"Come. It's time." Said Alexander, green eyes shining like the fire in the hearth.

Nathaniel walked to them, looking from Alexander to the suspicious chalice the Seneschal held and back to him, expecting an explanation to what that meant, yet he remained silent.

"The time has come for the Joining to begin. I shall speak the words that have been said since the first."

As the Seneschal spoke his blood ran cold and his breath quickened. He couldn’t see what was in the chalice, but he had a sneaking suspicion he didn’t like.

_"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you. From this moment forth, Nathaniel Howe, you are a Grey Warden."_

The seneschal gave the chalice to him warily. Nathaniel took it from his hands and confirmed his suspicion as he saw the foul looking black liquid in it.

“Is this… darkspawn blood?” He asked Alexander, the involuntary twitch in his face giving him away. But Alexander didn’t answer, so the seneschal did:

“It is.”

He looked back to the liquid, sickness growing on his stomach as he remembered where it came from. There was no going back now, he came to Ferelden to die and maybe that would be it. At least he was trying to do his part, that should count for something.

"The moment of truth..."

He shut his mind off and swallowed it at once. His vision blurred and darkened as he felt the strength leave his body.


	7. The Bear's Embrace.

Nathaniel opened his eyes slowly. His eyelids were heavy and his vision was blurry. The light hurt his eyes, worsening his pounding headache. He covered his eyes with his hand, pressing the fingertips against his forehead to ease some of the pain, but that proved useless.

Every joint in his body ached. He tried to sit up, cold stone floor not doing him any favors. His blood and muscles burned and his stomach twisted; his mouth was dry, throat sore and breath hideous. Not even on the occasions when he had a hangover he had felt as terrible as he did now, though nothing he ever tasted came remotely close to that, not even by a stretch of the imagination. Nothing he had imagined the Joining to be could compare to the reality. Maker, what had he just done?

Carefully, Nathaniel rose to his feet, his balance almost faltering. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. He was still in the main hall; the hearth still burnt and the place was still empty. How long has he been out?

Then a voice he already knew to be from the Seneschal called his attention, echoing in the large empty place:

"There's a room ready for you in the guest quarters. Through that…"

"I know where the guest quarters are." He quickly cut the man off with a sneer, voice full of spite as if he would just end the sentence by spitting on the floor. Was that man just going to tell him where the guest rooms were? Who in the Maker's name did the Seneschal think he was? Nathaniel knew the Keep like the back of his hand. He knew every room, every corner and every passage better than any of those bandits occupying it. The last thing he needed was a guide in his own home.

The Seneschal didn't answer, hands behind his back, greatsword just in reach, looking at him as if he would explode at any moment. 

Nathaniel turned around and left the hall, stopping at the empty corridor. What does one do after becoming a Grey Warden? Going to bed and sleeping was appealing, but he was starving, yet he felt like throwing up.

He decided to walk around for a bit, if only to feel a little better. He passed swiftly down the corridors and lesser known passages, evading the occasional servant or guard, he definitely wasn't in the mood to be scorned right now.

Those were the same halls where he was raised, where he ran around much to his mother's annoyance, where he followed his father in awe as a little boy, where he argued and played with his siblings. But now the place was much more sober and heavy, the furniture, paintings and decorations he knew were nowhere to be seen.

He didn't remember anything after drinking from the chalice, even the moments before were blurred, though that could be because of his weariness. What he did remember clearly was the stare from Alexander, green eyes that somehow looked both impassive and aflame, just like the hearth behind him. The words spoken by the Seneschal only slowly crawled back to his mind, but that stare was very much fixed.

Nathaniel chuckled at the thought. Who would've imagined that the boy who Fergus would jokingly whisper could ‘talk his way out of anything, like a little demon,’ would look like that? How could he guess the kid his father would say he would marry Delilah with ‘before he marries an outside whore,’ would look down at him in his own home?

He soon reached the kitchen, the growl from his stomach an ungentle reminder of the present. But before Nathaniel entered it, he heard a voice coming from there and halted his movement.

"I'm saying, it wouldn't be such a terrible idea." That one was the warden mage, the same annoying voice he clearly remembered from the village.

"I didn't say it was."

Nathaniel almost cursed when he heard the other. That was Alexander.

"Then what _is_ the problem?" asked the mage, levity somewhat gone from his voice.

"The situation, as I have told you."

An annoyed huff and a chair scraping the floor put an end to the conversation. He then heard quick steps as Alexander laughed, followed by pottery being moved loudly.

Were the hunger not as strong as it was, he would've turned away and come back later, but that wasn't an option. Besides, he was already a Warden, what else could he do?

He inhaled deeply and entered the kitchen. The mage was standing near the table holding a jug in his hands while the Warden Commander was sitting on a chair across from him. The mage just froze on the spot staring at Nathaniel wide eyed and tense; the Commander didn't bother looking.

"Don't worry, I'll just get something to eat and be out of your way." Nathaniel spoke quickly.

"If you came here to eat, then eat. You're a Warden now, you'll need the energy," Alexander replied, gesturing to one of the free chairs. Voice even, unlike the other times.

Nathaniel looked suspiciously at Alexander, but he had his back to the entrance, he could see nothing but the blond hair. The mage, seemingly as expectant as he was, had not dared to move a muscle since Nathaniel appeared. He walked in slowly, but the Commander had his attention fixed on the jug the mage held. He wasn't sure what he meant by 'you'll need the energy,’ nor if he wanted to know.

Ignoring his presence, Alexander hit his mug on the table, calling the mage's attention back to him. The mage came back from his near trance-like state and served them both.

"Thank you, Anders,” said Alexander with a tiny hint of sarcasm as he took and raised his mug. Before making his way out, he spoke again, though this time whatever trace of the conversation he had with the mage was gone.

"Anders, Nathaniel, be ready in two hours and wait for me in the inner ward. We have work to do."

"Work already?!" exclaimed Anders, very much annoyed. Alexander didn't bother responding and instead turned to Nathaniel, who folded his arms over his chest.

Alexander's eyes met his, a commanding gaze that bordered on indifference. 

"Before you go, head to the armory. There's a chest on the left end of the room you might want to check."

Before Nathaniel could say anything, Alexander turned around and left the room.

Nathaniel tightened his lips and furrowed his brows, he entirely forgot the mage near him until he spoke.

"I can leave while you brood looking at the door and come back later."

"So is this how it's going to be? I get into a room, he gives an order and leaves?" Nathaniel scoffed, turning to grab a portion of the hot stew to eat.

The mage shrugged, tilting his head dramatically to the side.

"He was only here for the ale, I was keeping him longer. I'm Anders, former Circle runaway now Warden, by the way."

"Nathaniel Howe, but you know that already."

"Oh, yes, I know. You had quite the reception."

Nathaniel huffed, taking a seat at the corner of the table as the mage went to serve himself some of the stew.

"Don't you have something to add to the angry people of the Keep?"

"Me? None whatsoever,” answered Anders, sitting a chair apart from him.

"Really? Not even how my father was a monster and we deserve everything that's happening?"

"If you deserve it, I don't know, but I already have too many problems of my own to think about noble squabbles."

"Noble squabbles? Is that what you think just happened?"

"In case you've missed it, I'm a mage, and despite the looks, not of noble birth, so my worries are quite different than which noble killed which or which nobles rules the place."

Nathaniel didn’t answer and both ate in silence. After Anders finished his bowl, he looked at Nathaniel with the most irritating smug smile.

"So, changed your mind about killing our beloved commander? Maybe a later backstab in the most Orlesian fashion?"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes, his mood was not particularly good, and Anders made an effort to sound insufferable in that same sing-song voice he heard at the village. But Anders was apparently enjoying it.

"I'm Fereldan, in case you've missed it, Anders."

"But you weren't here, were you? Maybe something of foreign lands rubbed off on you." 

"I'm not here to kill the Warden Commander anymore. I'm here to do my part in facing the darkspawn, if that's what you want to know." Nathaniel answered sharply, and a bit loudly.

"So, you're a Warden now, through and through?"

"Can't be a grand feat if he took you too." At that the mage laughed loudly, throwing his head back, the feathers of his pauldrons shaking with his exaggerated movement. Maker, he already regretted staying.

"That's a relief. It would get quite messy if the Commander, Hero of Ferelden and Prince Consort died so soon."

"What a loss."

"Indeed. But thanks to him we don't have an angry dragon with an army flying around."

"Have you seen the Archdemon?"

"Me? No. I was more worried about remaining free than seeing the next tourist attraction. But I was in Denerim for a while. That city was running itself to the ground before the horde hit it."

Nathaniel almost wanted to ask what Anders heard of his father, but he decided against it, opting for a general question:

"What was happening?"

"You name it. There's a civil war, disease, and rampant crime. Bad place to live."

"Denerim has a Chantry, didn't the Templars find out about you?"

Anders's smile faltered for a bit, before he answered in his careless tone:

"I think they were more preoccupied with keeping thugs away from the treasures and the sisters than hunting mages. Not that I was walking around their doorstep, to be sure."

"How did you come to be a Warden, then? Shouldn't you be far away by now?"

"Seems like my luck ran out. Funny how those things are," Anders said in a finishing tone. His daring smirk pretty much said he wasn't going to give much more answers.

"I see. Did the Commander say what he wants us for?"

"I was… distracted. Guess there's something to do with the Keep."

"What to do with the Keep?"

"I heard there's a lot of problems here, probably why the Orlesian Wardens got the scare of their lives," Anders said all too joyfully.

"What happened to them?"

"Died. All of them."

Nathaniel froze in his seat, the food he ate feeling like a rock in his stomach. He knew there were few Wardens, but he absolutely didn't know the Orlesian contingent there had all died. For as much as he despised them, the thought that they all perished in his home was dreadful. Maybe that was why Alexander accepted him.

Anders rose from his seat, stopping at the door and saying before making his leave:

"See you later, Nathaniel." He dragged the name on his tongue, the smirk never leaving his face.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and sighed. Either the man was annoying by himself or he wanted to bother him, either way, Anders wasn't the priority in his head.

Alexander had again taken over most of his thoughts. What had the Commander stored for him? Why in the armory? Was it a trap? A joke? What did he mean by his words? Was the real situation so dire he took an enemy into his ranks?

He finished his meal much more quickly than he ever did normally, and although Fereldan stew was rather heavy, part of him still felt a bit of hunger.

In any case, he was nothing if not curious - in spite of his own good, as his mother would say. He made his way straight to the armory, walking with a proud stride, ignoring the occasional side glances.

Once there, he took a moment to look at it. Just a few of the wide variety of weapons and armor remained, organized unevenly on the few racks and stands. Upon a workbench, tools were left to be organized later. There were a few chests, one of them at the left end of the room as the Commander mentioned. At least the place looked like it was recently cleaned up, with an impeccably scrubbed floor and no dusty corners.

Not much else to do now, so he went to the chest Alexander spoke about, kneeling in front of it and slowly opening the lid, half expecting a trap of some sort. Yet there was none.

When he opened the chest he inhaled through parted lips. Inside it were his belongings he brought from the Free Marches and The Bear's Embrace he stole days before.


End file.
